


nothing to see here

by dollyfish



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, as in: they were totally dating before the shitstorm fluff, first time i write banging against a wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyfish/pseuds/dollyfish
Summary: Chihiro quickly grabs a fistful of Mondo’s undershirt and tucks him down until they’re face to face, so close one of them slightly losing balance would result in their noses touching. Chihiro glances down at the other’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. It shouldn’t make his blood rush faster in his veins, and hotter, like an adrenaline injection. “I didn’t say you could stop”, the boy whispers.(In which Mondo and Chihiro come back far past the school curfew.)





	nothing to see here

**Author's Note:**

> @ beck Just take this before I regret even giving birth to it. I hope you find some reason to enjoy it tho
> 
> anyway these two are adorable and they give me so many feels. chihimondo is wholesome and happy. what the fuck is canon? i don't know her.

 

 

There is a school gate to pass in order to access the new building’s area, usually closed little before 10 PM. The walls adjacent to it are not any taller or sturdier than a regular school’s, and the paved pathway that leads to the heart of the campus is as beautiful during spring break as it is right after the sun has set in October.

Chihiro likes the pathway like that, sprinkled with dead leaves, considerably soiled if you compare it to other days. It smells like the earth, and it makes him wonder about owning a dog. 

The school gate is Chihiro’s favorite spot in the Academy, it has the predictable charm of phantom places. It’s the place you remember, alpha and omega, where it’s nothing but  _ walking  _ and  _ passing _ and  _ thinking _ . It has been closed for a while now. 

Chihiro thinks he would like to take a picture of the Academy from that spot on the last day of his third year. Looking back at that building in years… He will most likely remember the school gate, walking out for the last time after graduation, and maybe walking in with Mondo on a normal school day. Yes, he likes those memories best, although…

“T-there is a possibility that… someone might see...” His voice stumbles out raspy and a little high-pitched, like the first sigh after a long apnea. And then he winces, curling into his slim shoulders, looking down with those huge doll eyes he detests with his whole (little, too little) heart. His lashes fall over his blown pupils as if to curtain them from shame. 

He used to think it’s undoubtedly better to die unburied than to walk through an ocean of mockery, and he hasn’t really stopped altogether to this day. But Mondo has yet to mock his body; he never has in any way, before or after touching it, even after trailing his fingers down Chihiro’s skinny back, then thighs, and heaving him up with no effort at all to hook them around his own hips. Though he felt every inch of pliant flesh give, indeed, and welcome him, and want him. He didn’t laugh when he saw Chihiro’s belly for the first time, or the fifth, like the weak ‘v’ of his bones seems to point downwards derisively when he examines them in the mirror. 

He is not by any means underdeveloped, but rather small, frail, different. But Mondo never laughed at him hiding his thin wrists from view, or kissing with his eyes shut tight. 

“Is that a reason not to...?” The biker stops kissing his neck and his eyes snap back to Chihiro’s face, horror and excitement mingle in them like smothering gas, cutting the boy’s breath short. A reply like this would work on anyone, if Chihiro wasn’t anything short of stubborn. Terribly stubborn.

“I’m just making sure we’re both aware of the risk”, Chihiro replies, feeling another wave of heat rise to his round cheeks. He’s all chiseled features and smooth porcelain, from his eyelids to his lips to his toes, which curl up in an almost involuntary reflex when Mondo’s breath makes contact with his exposed neck. One breath to steady himself. Two. “I-I know it’s quite late, but... someone could still pass by. And you know I… I can’t keep it down, sometimes, because you…” 

He never finishes that train of thought because he can’t feel the cold, constant pressure of Mondo’s belt on his stomach anymore. Mondo’s hands on the small of his back slide off, too, and Chihiro blinks a few times, metabolizing. A wisp of wind slips under the hem of his uniform jacket and creeps up his spine, till Chihiro’s shoulders go stiff.

“You’re… yeah, right. My bad for starting it... Should’ve known.” Mondo isn’t meeting his eyes. For a six feet tall gangster, he’s agonizingly easy to fluster to the point of no return, and Chihiro has probably known this since the moment they laid eyes on each other. Owada Mondo has a way of defying his expectations in the most bewildering ways, and not all of them are rewarding. “Then we should head back…”

Chihiro quickly grabs a fistful of Mondo’s undershirt and tucks him down until they’re face to face, so close one of them slightly losing balance would result in their noses touching. Chihiro glances down at the other’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. It shouldn’t make his blood rush faster in his veins, and hotter, like an adrenaline injection. “I didn’t say you could stop”, the boy whispers. He swallows and steps back, though there is not much space to move freely, considering that Mondo has been pressing him against the wall for ten minutes straight. Their innocent adventure took a while this time. On the other hand the days are starting to fall shorter and shorter, and there is not nearly enough hours in a day as Chihiro would like. One year ago, he wouldn’t even be grazed by such considerations. 

One year ago, he couldn’t ride a motorbike to run after the sun long beyond his reach. He didn’t know the thrill of revealing an overgrown secret would taste so amazing, one year ago. 

Mondo blinks at him, then places his hands back on Chihiro’s waist. He does so with care, like one puts down the final puzzle piece. They’re knowingly hesitating in the limbo and the intensity is enough to make Chihiro scared, of rushing in and losing himself in the process, but only for a second. 

He’s the one who goes on his tiptoes to join their lips, entwining his fingers behind Mondo’s head to pull him down to a level he can reach; his size admittedly makes the mechanics a little challenging sometimes, but Mondo himself isn’t at all. He’s blunt, almost simple with what he wants, he’ll bend down with a single touch if it’s Chihiro’s. 

It feels like the first time they kissed, a little awkward and wetter than it should be. And it’s absolutely bewildering. Mondo’s tongue ventures in his mouth almost instantly, because somehow, along the line, he became confident in his talent as a kisser, and his warmth makes Chihiro’s knees weaker. Chihiro feels the boy’s tongue lick the inside of his cheek, the roof of his mouth, filling it with his extraneous warmth. Then Mondo grabs the back of his neck and moves a few inches away.

“Chihiro…”

The boy hushes him, tilting his head to the side so that when they kiss again, the angle allows them to deepen the contact. 

With his free arm under Chihiro’s bottom, Mondo pulls him up so he’s squeezed between the other’s sturdy body and the school’s outer wall. A low yelp escapes the small boy’s mouth, and Mondo laps the sound off his hot lips. Chihiro’s knees are trembling, clenching around Mondo’s torso to distract himself from the lack of contact with the ground, and a shiver bites his spine when a wide hand, sliding under his pumpkin-skirt, cups one of his cheeks. 

“Please…” Mondo’s words are not dictated by will alone, but something deeper, something raw that gnaws at his stomach and an makes it harder to speak, his voice scratchy and rough... It makes Chihiro’s eyes almost water from frustration. Mondo may as well be on his knees, begging for mercy, and all Chihiro can do is stare with half-lidded eyes and damn the existence of clothes to Hell. 

“If you don’t act a little braver, you know that I will”, Chihiro says after a few moments of pause, but the blush that spreads on his whole face tells a different story. He chuckles and gives the bridge of Mondo’s nose a small peck. Then he realizes that Mondo’s fingers are fiddling with the hem of his panties, and the suffocating heat expands to his chest. One finger makes its way barely under the fabric, just enough to be felt. It’s suddenly very hard to breath calmly. “Y-You can… uhm…”

Mondo is glancing at the wall behind him in concentration. “Hm?”   


“Take them off.”

All movement stops for a long minute. Chihiro is heaving, looking down with a deeply flushed face, but this allows him to see clearly as Mondo aggressively tucks his white underwear down his creamy thighs and proceeds to make himself closer, trapping Chihiro’s knees almost to the level of his shoulders. 

Preparing him takes considerably less time than coming to the realization that, yes, they are indeed doing it in the open, near the school gate, during nighttime. Against the same wall students walk by every day. 

They shouldn’t even  _ be  _ out of their beds, but Chihiro has long come to terms with the fact that his boyfriend won’t be deterred from messing around town whenever he feels like he can get away with it. It borders on “ordinary occurrence”, but it’s no less alarmingly easy to let Mondo convince him. Maybe he doesn’t need to be convinced in the first place.

Chihiro’s head jerks back and hits the bricks. 

“Shit”, Mondo grunts, sliding a hand up to cup the other’s flushed cheek. They lock gazes and his rock hard cock is half-sheathed inside, and the strain in his thighs from the effort of keeping still is about to make him fold like a card under pressure from both ends. The tight cavity engulfs his cock just right, so  _ welcoming _ … And every inch of Chihiro depends on him for stability… If either of them suggested fucking against a wall earlier, the reception wouldn’t have been as warm but, oh, the friction gained with this position, the tension of their body gravitating towards each other, like a force bigger than both of them pulling them together so tight they don’t know where the other begins and they end. This position is- functional, no… Good. And hot and-  _ tight _ . So very tight.

Chihiro gasps when Mondo caves and inches forward. A fraction of a second, enough to make him see stars. “There… Oh, you’re  _ close _ , Mondo,  _ please _ …”   
“I-I have t-to… Keep it up?”

“Yeah.” Chihiro’s eyes flutter shut in bliss. Then he bites his lip, “Harder”, he says.

The reaction of Mondo’s cock is almost embarrassing; he picks up the speed instinctively. He feels that he can’t deny Chihiro anything, not ever, and especially not now that they’re joined like this; Chihiro with his legs up in the hair and Mondo’s arms holding him up like he’s no heavier than a fly, knocked off balance by pleasure, dazed and blurry-eyed and absolutely obscene. His lips are parted slightly, red like a rose in bloom, soft whines falling from it with every thrust. 

Locks of hair stick to his sweaty neck and the picture of him in his wild entirety is so different from the poised tiny girl everyone knows him as…

His finger ghosts over Mondo’s lips and the taller boy’s voice breaks into a sob.

“This is so good, you’re doing so good, baby”, Chihiro praises him, his gasps and moans cutting his breath short. He drops his head forward and rests it on Mondo’s shoulder when his prostate is hit once, twice and more and more brutally. There’s not really a way to get into the mindset of how  _ big _ Mondo is, and thus the stretch always stings a little bit; Chihiro accepted this much sooner than Mondo did, as ironic as it sounds. His cock’s remarkable proportions, while not being a problem, do require a while to adjust, but once he does it’s practically Heaven on Earth, all restraint squeezed out of him by that big cock delving into him like his body is hiding some buried treasure. And Mondo doesn’t fight it, because deep in his heart he could never say no to a pretty face, drooling onto his shoulders and kicking the air out of his lungs with a gaze full of ravishing hunger, even if it sends him tumbling right into the arms of sweet, sweet damnation. It’s an attraction stronger than both of them, and the metaphor is not completely off- It’s like Mondo has something he lacks, or like he has something Mondo lacks, and he doesn’t know how, but the absence makes itself be felt. Maybe it’s both, and they must yield and let each other feel around to feel closer to completion. 

Somewhere along the line Chihiro’s screams get loud enough to threaten their privacy, which was not a lot to begin with, since Chihiro can’t even come up with a time he’s disrespected the school’s grounds before tonight… Has he ever littered? No, of course not. But he’s not quite as  _ clean _ as everyone thinks. Is he? No matter, because Mondo fucks every lingering, nonsensical thought of innocence out of him. A few drawn-out, methodical thrusts have him spilling under his own skirt, pushing against his prostate and staying there as much as he needs to ride out an insanely good orgasm. Chihiro pays no mind to the large hand Mondo smothers his moans with, nailed to his mouth so as to keep the noise down. And save face, maybe, too. Chihiro gets too liquid, too scatterbrained to care and anyways, his eyes are watering with pleasure; he sees Mondo beyond the fog, beyond everything, purely for what he is. Really. Is he the only one who sees him?

Mondo was hardly even keeping himself together as it was.

After they come, they always talk. A ritual of theirs. The most appropriate explanation is that they just have many things to say; to each other, or just for the sake of saying them aloud. So many things. And they’re not all pretty, or the side of them they come from isn’t all that pretty. 

This time, the silence is only shattered by their breathing. Then the shuffling of clothes being reassembled and their clarity slowly coming back together, too. 

They smile and can’t find the words to speak.

“S-So are you-”

The wind picks up suddenly, stirring the bushes as if they’re living things. Chihiro’s eyes look like they’re glinting, half-moonlit.

“Yeah.” Coughing, Chihiro tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, he feels the weight of his speechlessness on his tongue. “I mean, it was...” Wrong way to begin a sentence, terrible, truly a miserable attempt, but it’s something, and Mondo is seemingly satisfied with it. 

“It was sexy”, he agrees. “We should- You should head in. I’ll hang out here for a bit, y’know.”

“Mondo,” A pause. Maybe it’s the openness in the other’s expression. He changes his mind and nods once. “I think- Yes. I think I’d love to try this again sometime.”

And for that one moment, it’s just the wind drifting in his ears like static and chilling down his translucent skin. He never noticed how exciting the night was… The whole place is desert, apparently uninhabited. If he wants, he may believe that they’re the only people left on Earth, both in Heaven and Hell, and wouldn’t that be poetic? 

His chest overflows with trust for this boy- And he’s sure that he’ll never regret it. 

Mondo looks over at the wall, then at the ground and finally at his face, again. “What?”; Comes the uncreative reply. 

“You’ll think about it, right? I'm counting on it.” Chihiro says with as much tenderness as he can without cracking his heart wide open, yet. He grabs Mondo’s limp hand and gives it a squeeze. “Right? After all, I really had fun tonight, staying out late at night and _all the rest_ … Wouldn’t it be nice if it became more than a once-in-a-lifetime thing?”

When he lets go, Mondo brings it close to his chest like his brain can’t possibly process whatever just occurred in front of him. 

“See you tomorrow. Remember to show up to class!” Chihiro adds cheerfully, then he walks off towards the dorms, turning behind just once to blow his boyfriend a kiss because he wants to take advantage of the temporary boldness. 

When he deems himself far enough from where they parted ways, only then does he take a deep breath and flattens his skirt over his hips, a skip in his step and a fluttering beat in his chest, sighing when he starts to feel that sore spot in his lower back while he approaches the building.

He’s going to deem himself lucky if it reminds him of tonight for the rest of the week. Regardless of this, of everything, of the rule-breaking, the school gate, graduating, getting old; regardless of this and that… He doesn’t want to ever forget the way Mondo makes him feel. 

He doesn’t think he could. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
